


5000 Credits

by masulevin



Series: Hazel Shepard [6]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Birthday, Custom Shepard (Mass Effect), Drinking, Friendship, Gambling, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:05:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: While guarding Shepard after the destruction of the Alpha Relay, James decides to break the rules and bring her a few things for her birthday. Their friendly game of poker ends with her 5000 credits in the hole, and he's willing to forgive the debt. Shepard, however, always pays her debts.Swearing, no smut. This is a friendship fic for MER Week 2019.





	5000 Credits

James had to trade shifts with Zeke to be able to work today. It interrupted what would have been a three-day weekend, giving him one work night in the middle of two off days, and he can already tell it’s going to completely fuck with his sleep schedule… but he also knows it’s going to be completely worth it.

Koman doesn’t blink when James walks into Shepard’s apartment- _cum_ -prison cell with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. Technically, _technically_ someone should have checked it to make sure he’s not smuggling in any contraband, but Koman doesn’t care any more than the outside guard had, and James isn’t going to bring it up. They’ve all gotten used to Shepard being an easy prisoner and following the rules. 

James is sure that’s going to get someone in trouble one day. Probably him, if the contents of today’s duffle bag are any indication.

Shepard is, as usual, nowhere to be seen, her bedroom door firmly closed. Koman books it as soon as James settles heavily onto the couch, eager to go do something more fun than stare at a closed bedroom door for eight hours, and James takes the few minutes of privacy to put together his surprise.

When Shepard opens her bedroom door a precise fifteen minutes later -- the amount of time she always waits between shift changes to make sure nothing unusual is happening -- it’s to find a gift bag on the table and James hovering in the kitchen. He stares at her while she stares at the gift, then meets her gaze when she looks up at him.

She narrows her eyes, assessing, and he really tries hard to resist the instinct to snap to attention. She really hates when he does.

“Vega?” She might hate it when he acts formally with her, but he’s caught her off-guard so she’s standing with her back straight and her hands clasped behind her back, that stupid Blasto shirt stretched across her-- “What’s this?”

“Er--” Well, now he’s forgotten how to talk, so he glances around the little apartment for inspiration. “Happy birthday?” 

He hadn’t meant to sound so uncertain. He knows for a _fact_ that April 11 is her birthday, he even knows that she’d be turning thirty-two if she hadn’t been dead for two years, and he also knows that she won’t be getting anything else to celebrate since the Alliance has cut her off from her old crew. The only thing he’s suddenly nervous about is her reception to this… he doesn’t know, offer of friendship? Apology for being in charge of keeping her inside almost all day?

She blinks at him. Then she blinks again. Then, her face starts to turn pink as she turns back to the bag. “You got me a present?”

“Er--” He clears his throat and tells himself to quit being a dumbass. “Yeah! I mean, everybody should have something on their birthday.”

“Even mass murderers?” She glances at him sideways, but most of her attention is on her present. She takes a half-step closer to it, then freezes like she’s not sure she’s allowed to have it. James frowns at her, but she doesn’t see it, focused as she is on what James is starting to think might be her first present in her whole life.

“That’s not how I would describe you, Commander,” James says. “Just open it.”

“I’m not a commander anymore, Vega,” she says, automatically and without any real heat behind it, but she’s edging closer to the bag anyway. She doesn’t pick it up off the table, just pulls the crumpled tissue paper out and drops it on the floor by her bare feet.

When she sees what’s on top, she laughs and reaches in to pull out the six pack he smuggled in. If anyone had bothered to check his bag, they definitely would have confiscated the cans, and he definitely would have been reprimanded. As it is, though… 

“These for me or you?”

In all fairness, it _is_ his favorite brand, but he’s seen the way she watches the commercials. “I guess that depends on how much you like the second thing.” He nods back to the bag.

She sets the beers on the table and reaches back into the bag. When she sees the picture on the box, she gasps and her whole face lights up in a smile. James tries not to squirm where he stands, but he can’t help but echo her grin.

“You got me a model Citadel?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs one shoulder, like this wasn’t a big deal, like he hadn’t found a specialty shop in Vancouver and bugged the employee to find out which model was the best. “Thought you’d want another one once you finish that geth ship you’ve been working on.”

She smooths her hand over the picture on the box and gazes at it with a soft expression he’s never seen on her face before. Usually she looks sharp or annoyed; at best, she looks bored. Now? Now she looks like she actually has something to look forward to.

“Thank you, James.” She clutches the box to her chest and beams another genuine smile that makes him think maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. She puts the box down on the little table in the kitchenette and returns for the beer, pulling two cans free before tossing one to him. “You gonna get in trouble for sneaking all this in?”

He shrugs again, like the answer isn’t obvious _._ “Depends on whether or not you agree to play Skyllian Five with me.” He fishes the second-to-last gift out of one of his BDU pockets and watches as she tilts her head to the side. He waggles the deck of cards between his fingers then tosses it at her. She catches it with her free hand and starts to nod.

“Okay, Lieutenant,” she says, grinning. “You’re on.”

Instead of moving to the table, Shepard sits on the floor right where she’s standing, facing the low table in front of the couch. She moves the empty gift bag, puts her beer off to the side, and starts to shuffle the deck while James puts the unopened beer in the fridge.

“There’s just one last thing,” he says as he settles heavily on the couch across from her. His knee creaks. She blinks up at him, trying to make a bridge with the shuffled cards and dropping half of them instead. “What do you like on your pizza?”

“Shit.” She says, but she’s looking at the mess of cards and not at him. He laughs anyway. She answers his question as she’s gathering up the cards to try again: “As far as I’m concerned, the more meat the better.”

If this was anyone other than Commander Shepard, or if they were in any other position than prisoner-and-guard, he’d respond with something along the lines of _I have some meat for you,_ but he tamps that down with every other thought _like that_ he’s had about her, and he nods instead. 

“Perfect. You deal; I’ll order.”

By the time the pizza makes it -- delivered not by a worker from the restaurant, but by one of the guards stationed outside who takes a slice as a bribe to stay quiet -- Shepard has won 450 credits from him. She’s also still drinking, and she’s laughing, and she’s still calling him _James_ instead of Lieutenant or Vega.

He still can’t quite bring himself to call her Shepard, or god forbid Hazel, but he wouldn’t even care if Anderson walked into the apartment and discharged him right now for bringing in contraband. He doesn’t have the details about what happened in the Bahak system, but he knows she doesn’t deserve to be locked up or court-martialed over it, and making sure she has a few happy hours on her birthday is worth anything else.

By the time they’ve finished the pizza and they’ve finished the beer -- Shepard shared a second one with him, but he declined the third since he’s on duty -- she’s tipsy and also somehow in the hole 4700 credits.

He wasn’t keeping track, but she was, said there’s no point in playing if they weren’t playing for real, but she doesn’t call it until their last hand lands her an even 5000 in his debt. 

“How are you so bad at this?” He’s laughing. Her face is red, but she’s laughing too. She’s built a little tower of empty cans at the far end of the table, out of their way, and instead of trying to deal another hand, she just starts trying to throw the cards to knock the cans over.

She’s not good at that, either.

“We all have our talents,” she says, just enough of a drawl in her voice for him to recognize it, and then manages to knock the top can to the floor. “Fuck yeah. Listen,” she puts the rest of the cards down and turns to him, elbows on the table, “I don’t exactly have that many credits right now ‘cause of the…” she trails off, wrinkles her nose, waves one hand around. “You know. Anyway. Since this was your idea, you’re gonna haveta take an IOU.”

He stares at her. “I’m not taking an IOU.”

She stares right back, the corners of her lips twitching. “Well, I don’t have any money, so you’ll just have to wait.”

“No, I mean--” This situation is absurd, so he huffs a laugh, and she giggles. “You don’t have to actually pay me. This was just for fun.” He shrugs and holds his hands palms-up so she’ll know he’s serious.

“Oh, I see.” Unfortunately for him, it doesn’t seem like _she’s_ capable of being serious right now. “You don’t think I’m good for it?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but once again no words come. He’s never been at the receiving end of this kind of scrutiny from her before, not since their first day together when she assessed him so coldly. He’s _certainly_ never been on the receiving end of a tipsy, teasing Commander Shepard.

“Listen, listen,” she says, apparently trying hard to make each word as clear as possible. It only made her sound more drunk. He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees so she’ll finish whatever she’s trying to say. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. I owe you five thousand and I’ll pay you five thousand, just as soon as I get out of here. You don’t have to worry about it.”

She stands up then, pausing with both hands flat on the low table, bent at the waist with her face much too close to his. He sits up straight, cheeks starting to heat, putting a little more distance between them until she stands upright.

“Deal?” She holds out one fist to him, and he hesitates for the space of a breath before lifting his own fist and bumping their knuckles together. “That’s the spirit. Thanks again. For everything. I’m going to sleep.”

She turns without any further comment, walking with an exaggerated swagger he’s certain comes from the drink, and slams the bedroom door shut behind her. After a moment, he hears the click of the lock engaging.

Technically, _technically_ she’s not supposed to lock them out. He’s not going to fight her on it, especially not tonight.

He leaves the rule-breaking alone and cleans up after their tiny birthday party, hiding the beer cans under the other trash in her bin and handing the pizza box back to the outside guard to put in the hallway trash chute. 

As far as he’s concerned, his surprise was a success. It got her to relax, the model ship made her happy, and hopefully she’ll be just a little more comfortable with him from now on.

He knows the Alliance won’t keep her here forever. She should at least be comfortable while she is.

\---

It’s months later, after the reapers attack, after he crashes the shuttle on Mars, after they rush to the Citadel for Major Alenko, while he’s heading to some of the shops to pick up supplies he needs on the Normandy, that he remembers the fist bump she used to seal their deal.

They’re just passing each other in the Presidium, Liara at her side and some shopping bags hanging off her arm, when she tosses him something.

“What’s this?”

She grins and winks.

“We made a deal, didn’t we, Vega? I’m cashing out my IOU.”

He stares down at the credit chit in his hands as she continues past him. 

The holo-display gives him the total.

It’s an even 5000 credits.


End file.
